


Hiraeth

by Arakiel_is_my_son



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:10:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8415034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arakiel_is_my_son/pseuds/Arakiel_is_my_son
Summary: (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for lost places in your past.





	

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first actual fanfic, so I apologise if it's cringy. I appreciate tips on how to get better!

A large storm screamed outside the window, fists of rain pounding on the walls and lightning flashing furiously. Thunder was groaning and there was so much noise that Dean wanted to dig down and down and down and nestle in the core of the earth. Sam was sleeping soundlessly-how, Dean did not know-and the pillows were tucked around him like a bird's nest. Dean was sitting like an animal poised to flee, balancing on his toes like a cat, his back hunched as he curled under the scratchy wool blanket that had been given to them by motel staff. He longed to be somewhere else, anywhere else, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping and free from the stresses and he longed to be with Cas. Cas and his ethereal blue eyes and sonorous voice and scratchy stubble and awkward mannerisms, Dean wanted him to be  _there,_ clutching him and comforting him because storms were cruel and a reminder of how terrifying ordinary nature was. But Cas didn't love him, didn't desire his plain green eyes and dirty clothes and love-em-and-leave-em manner, Cas didn't love anyone at all because Cas couldn't  _love._ Not that Dean knew of, anyways.

It didn't mean Dean loved him any less, didn't mean he wanted him any less,  _needed_ him any less. Cas was his friend, his family, and they'd never be more, Dean knew that. Dean craved affection, the touch of skin on his own, the feeling of chapped or smooth lips on his skin, he wanted it from Cas, but he refrained and got himself a pretty girl who would be asleep when he left in the morning and forgot about her by afternoon. Because those girls were never what he wanted, were never good enough, were never the same. He switched around his style, looked for different girls, but they all felt tiring, boring, a waste of time. Eventually he stopped, stopped looking because what he wanted was right in front of him but was a thousand miles away and definitely not interested. Dean sprawled across the couch, relaxing from his flighty position, his hand hanging over the edge of the dismal couch. The scratchy blanket barely covered his legs, and he shivered, jerking out of his thoughts. Sam was asleep and the storm kept raging, criticizing Dean for his hopes and his love of his best friend. Dean rolled over, back pressing against the pillows and eyes shimmering with deep thoughts, staring blankly into nothing. Truthfully, Dean didn't want to just have sex with Cas and call it a day, he wanted everything that came with a relationship. He wanted the hugs and the soft kisses and the dates and inside jokes and awkward silences and angry fights. He wanted to fall asleep in Cas's arms like it would fix everything and he wanted to make him breakfast and he wanted Cas to love him, and if Cas could just do that then Dean would be happy and never needy again. 

Dean stayed restless with thoughts for a long time, well into the early dawn when the storm began to let up and suddenly stopped. The smell of petrichor invaded the air as he opened a window, the earthy, wet smell in his nose as he breathed. Dean sighed and strode to the kitchen, feeling like he was making a big mistake in letting his feelings invade his thoughts when he heard a slight whoosh and froze. The smell of aftershave and fresh mountain breezes and the metallic twang of the air before a storm invaded his senses, overriding the pleasant earthiness of the air before. Dean sighed internally, took a deep breath, and turned on his heel, staring into Castiel's eyes and ignoring the untidy, rumpled hair on his head and choosing instead to focus on the bleeding coming from a wound on his cheek. 

"Cas, what happened to you?" Dean questioned, grabbing the angel and forcing him to sit on the couch. "You're bleeding, man," he said, allowing concern to creep into his voice as he dabbed a tissue at Cas's cheek, forcing himself not to run a hand over the perfect jaw and pull him close and kiss him like he's never been kissed-though he probably hasn't, if Dean's being honest with himself. Cas was silent for a moment, watchful gaze on Dean's movements with an air of curiosity. He waited for Dean to remove his hand and the tissue from his face before speaking. 

"I had a scrap with a shapeshifter. He is dead now, do not worry," said Cas, shifting slightly on the couch to resume staring at Dean. "Sam is going to wake up soon," he informed, and no sooner than he did, a loud yawn was heard from the other couch, a flurry of pillows falling from where they were placed over Sam indicating his brother was sitting up.   
  
"Morning Dean, Cas," Sam said blearily, not even half surprised that Castiel was sitting casually on their couch and talking to his confused brother. Sam swung his legs over the edge to stand up, striding to the kitchen in five steps-Dean counted-and swung open the fridge without another word. Dean blinked. 

"Then Cas, why are you here?" He asked after a moment of silence, fixating his gaze at a spot a little to the left of Cas's head. 

"I have come to ask for your help on solving a case I have found," Castiel said matter-of-factly, moving so that Dean was forced to look at him. 

"Me and Sam? Why?" Dean asked, tilting his head in confusion. 

"No, just you. I have arranged with Sam to cover another case. In this... particular case, I see that your expertise is far more useful than his," Cas stated, his eyes flickering to Dean's hand for a moment before glancing back at Dean, leaving Dean even more confused, although he wasn't going to say no. 

"I-I guess," Dean stuttered, standing up and stretching. "Let me, uh, pack first," he yawned, retrieving his duffel from where it was stashed under the kitchen table and moving into the bathroom to collect his other things. He emerged to find Cas hovering next to Sam, staring intently at the orange juice while Sam stifled a laugh. "Uh, Cas, are we gonna go or not?" Dean asked, an eyebrow raised at the two. 

"Yes, Dean. The Impala is to be left here, also," Cas said, snapping out of his reverie and loping gracefully to Dean, placing two fingers on his forehead and ignoring his protests. 

They appeared on a hill, where Dean began to walk and promptly slipped, rolling to the base of the hill and lying in the slick grass, Castiel following him effortlessly with Dean's fallen duffel in his hand.

"Is that the normal way of going down a hill?" questioned the angel, a puppy-like tilt to his head. When Dean shook his head and stood up, Cas handed him the bag and continued, "welcome to Sun Valley, Idaho."

Dean glanced around the small, decrepit city block they were on, gaze traveling over a pudgy woman scurrying from one shop to another an elderly man reading the newspaper on a bench. "Not a lot of people here, huh?" He commented, jerking his chin towards the empty streets. He began to walk, intent on finding a motel, Cas by his side and staring around, probably scoping out the town. Dean was struck with the realisation that Cas was a mere three inches away from him-Dean could grab him, push him against that wall, and lock their lips together until they were out of breath. He repressed the thought, shoving it to the back of his mind and instead pointing at a crooked sign above a small motel. "That place look affordable, ya think?" Dean questioned, waiting for Cas to affirm his question. With a shake of Cas's head, Dean started towards the motel, a wad of cash emerging from his pocket as he entered and approached the desk clerk. "A few night's stay," he said gruffly, prompting no conversation. Cas waited by his elbow, fiddling with the sleeve of his trench coat. The lady gave them a suspicious look before handing Dean a room key, pointed them down a hallway, and turned her attention to paperwork on the desk. 

Dean unlocked the motel room and Cas walked inside with no thanks, looking around. "This will do," he decided, and Dean rolled his eyes, entering the room and shutting the door behind them. 

"So, Cas, what do you have on the case?" Dean questioned, reclining on the bed that was connected to the incredibly small kitchen. Cas turned his attention to him and Dean flushed, sitting up and turning his attention to the ceiling. It was nice. 

"I do not have much. It seems different. Every statement I have heard from a witness is only that they failed."

"Failed what?" Dean asked, his interest peaked and the flush gone from his face as he turned his gaze back to Castiel. 

"Others," Castiel said simply, turning his back on Dean and striding to the kitchen counter before propping himself against it and looking back at Dean. "I believe, however, that we may be dealing with a deity."

"Goddamnit, not another one," Dean groaned. "There's no way. It's gotta be a siren or something," he suggested, leaning back against the bed again and crossing his hands over his chest. Cas simply stared at him before turning his gaze to the window. 

"It is getting darker," he stated, tilting his head. "Do you have anything for research?"

Dean motioned to his duffel bag. "yeah, Cas, go get the laptop from my bag. I'm gonna go take a shower," he yawned, standing up and grabbing a pair of boxers and a shirt before moving to the bathroom and shutting the door. It was surprisingly clean and well-lit, and when he undressed and turned on the water, it was warm. He could hear Cas shuffling around out in the room, and he resisted the urge to straight-up walk out naked and see how the chaste angel would react. Slowly, Dean began to wash his hair and realised with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was in love with his best friend. An angel who would not love him back. And here he was thinking he would pull something like that? Dean almost gagged as he turned off the water, resting his head against the shower wall as he took a deep breath. He stepped out and dried off with a towel, pulling on his briefs and shirt before putting his head in his hands. God, he needed to get some control. This was not right at all. He just needed to sleep it off. 

He left the bathroom and put his clothes next to the bed, sliding under the covers and turning away from Cas without a word. As the night began to fall, sleep overtook him. His eyes closed, and his dreams turned to nightmares.

In his nightmares, he became all of the things he despised, and all the ones he loved cowered in blood at his feet. His eyes were unfocused, his clothes bloody. Cas was dead, Sam was dead. And then he was running from a fire and Azazel was behind him, clutching Sam and laughing. He told Dean that he was as much of a monster as he was. He ruined more lives than he saved. Dean cried that he just wanted to go home. Azazel told him he didn't have a home. Then Dean was being beaten by a drunk John Winchester, shaking in front of Sammy as his skin became coloured with bruises. And finally Cas was telling him that he didn't care, that Dean was not his, that he did not love Dean. He was stabbing Dean in the heart with his words, and Dean was still dreaming. 

In real life, Dean was crying and shaking in his sleep, and Cas was watching with nothing but sadness in his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there you go, chapter one


End file.
